Only For The Truth
by AmethystB
Summary: Both Woody and Devan work on a difficult case while trying to sort out their feelings for one another. Which one will they ruin first; the case or their feelings?
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Another fanfic idea I've had for awhile but just couldn't find the time to write it down. It's a little differentthan what I imagined it to be, and was actually mostly inspired by a _Law And Order: SVU _episode called _Doubt_. It sort of explores the more emotoinal and physical aspects of Devan and Woody's relationship. Just remember, if you are not a fan, don't read!

**Summary: **Both Woody and Devan wok on a difficult case while trying to sort out their feelings for one another. Which one will they ruin first; the case or their feelings? Rated for violence, mild language, and sexual references (sounds like a horror movie, doesn't it?)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Crossing Jordan. But I do wish I owned Ryan Reynolds...for just one day...please!

**Only For The Truth  
Prologue**

* * *

Woody chewed his lip at the obvious implication. Yes, it was true he didn't have the most experience in the ladies' department, but that didn't mean he was completely uneducated. He was just a gentleman is all. Twenty questions was something that he was usually uncomfortable with because it meant having to explore secrets that even he didn't know the answers to, but because he was sharing them with her, it didn't matter as much. He thought back to the question; the last time he had been serious about a relationship. 

Appling force to the left side of the steering wheel, he turned a corner, glancing quickly beside him at Devan. "Seriously committed? Three and a half years ago in Wisconsin. Planned on marrying her, too."

Devan raised an eyebrow and looked out the window impulsively. "What happened?"

Shrugging, Woody took one hand off the wheel to scratch the back of his head. "Didn't live up to her father's expectations. He said he didn't want his daughter marrying a rookie cop, and more importantly, a sheriff's son."

"Ouch," Devan said, her voice dripping with forced emphasis. "What did you tell your girl?"

Woody flicked his eyes to her. "Not what her father had said, which is a major regret now that I think about it. I just said I was leaving and I thought it was best if we left our relationship alone. That sounded really lame just then didn't it?"

Devan nodded. "Oh yeah. So what happened next?"

Turning another corner, Woody flicked on his high beam so he could see down the dark street. "Why do you care?"

"Hey," Devan began defensively, her voice rising, "I'm just trying to make a connection. So far I'm getting that you're a coward who doesn't like to hurt anyone's feelings."

Woody increased the speed of the car when there was no traffic or parked cars to distract him. "And that's a bad thing?"

Staring at him in disbelief, Devan gaped. "Uh yeah. If you do it that way you'll never tell the truth. You need to just say how you feel and not worry about the repercussions."

Woody shook his head. "Easy for you to say, Miss Ice Queen. Some people get off on caring for others, and not just themselves."

"Well excuse me for my analysis," Devan started sarcastically. "I guess you have a better grasp on the concept."

Woody rolled his eyes before dismissing the conversation and flicking his eyes quickly towards Devan. "What about you?"

The blonde blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"What about you?" Woody repeated. "When were you last serious about a guy?"

Devan exhaled uncomfortably and glanced out the window at the passing houses. She shrugged and put on an uncaring voice. "A year ago in Washington. We planned to marry, too."

Woody turned another corner. "What fell through?"

Devan sat in silence. How could she put it delicately? She shrugged again. "His definition of commitment." She paused for a moment before frowning. "Exactly how far away is your place anyway?"

Woody smiled at her attempt to ease off the conversation. "Not far."

A streetlight flickered above them and Woody blinked at the sudden depletion of light. There was a scream outside of the car before a dull thud was heard. Glass shattered on the windshield as blood dripped slowly from the edges of the bumper. The car screeched to a halt just as the body hit the road. Devan stared in horror at the windshield before glancing over at Woody, whose hands shook on the steering wheel. He was breathing heavily and quickly, his mind not completely taking in the situation.

Devan opened the car door and stepped out, running to the aid of the victim. Female, twenties, dark bruises and dripping blood, no pulse. Devan breathed out through her mouth and looked towards the car, where Woody was still sitting. Eventually, he lifted himself from the seat and stumbled out of the car. His closed his eyes at the sight of the young woman lying still.

Devan looked at him with wide eyes. "You didn't see her."

Opening his eyes slowly, Woody countered with a stern voice, "Devan, I've been drinking."

Devan looked down at the body and paused, frowning. "I think we can explain away that with this."

She pointed to a large circular bruise around the woman's neck. She put her hand around it, though she didn't touch the neck. It was a handprint, and it extended all the way around the woman's neck. Devan scanned her eyes over the body. The clothes were torn and tattered and the belt threaded through the dark blue jeans was unbuckled. The bruises on the woman's face appeared to have been inflicted over an hour ago, their bluish tones free of any blood. The forehead had a deep cut in it though, and was possibly made by the force of the collision with the windshield. Devan moved her hand and looked at it. Blood stained the palm and the tips of her fingers. She looked down and noticed a gaping wound in the woman's lower abdomen, made possibly by a knife.

Woody met Devan's worried eyes. "Murdered?"

Devan looked back down with a thoughtful look. "Attempted."

A man rushed out from a small apartment building suddenly, his hand clutching a silver phone. His jeans were roughly put on and his white shirt was open and exposing his chest. It had blood on it. He looked at Woody firstly, then Devan.

The man swallowed and took a shaky breath. "I think I'm responsible for that."

* * *

**A/N: **And so the plot thickens...read more to find out what happens next! How was the girl killed?And just why were Devan and Woody driving home together...?

Reviews are much appreciated!

Peace.


	2. Looking For Answers In Corners

**A/N: **My head's spinning. Too much Marilyn Manson. Don't, I repeat, don't ask. Long story. Anywho…haha I love this fic. I was writing it at eleven last night and I just kept coming up with really funny lines. My brain seems to work more efficiently at night…except when I'm doing homework, then it doesn't like to work properly.

Anyways, thanks to the amazing (and I mean that) people who reviewed my short little prologue :) Luv you guys!

**FKW: **Me **have **to see Closer! Me want to see Closer. Me is going nuts (haha…nuts). Anyway, thanks for the official goodbye this arvo and you know I'm always there to talk to when things get rough :) All ya have to do is ask. Thanks for the review as always and I'll talk to you tomorrow.

**twinmuse: **I love your name! Hehe…sorry I've had a lot of sugar today. Thanks for the review! I love reviews…they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Don't mind me, I'm crazy. Anyways, keep reading and thanks again for the kind words!

**LeoDiabla: **Thanks as always, Dylan :) Even for the 'you suck', but hey it's all in the time! ;) Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing! Thanks.

Okies, I might be up to changing the rating if this gets a little crazy so just bear that in mind. And an **Official Disclaimer: I do not own Crossing Jordan. If I did, I'd be rich. **

Enjoy the show.

**Only For The Truth  
****Chapter One: Looking For Answers In Corners**

* * *

Devan poured an excessive amount of alcohol onto the cotton bud and walked over to the man sitting on a bench. She swiped along the man's cut quickly and watched as he squirmed under the sting. She gave him a sharp look and plucked up a roll of surgical tape. Ripping off a strip, she placed it roughly over the man's chest.

Throwing the cotton bud in the bin quickly, Devan turned away and looked for a small plastic container. "Cut yourself during all of that?"

The man shook his head. "I told you it was an accident."

Devan stifled a disbelieving laugh. "Right. You just accidentally raped and murdered a woman."

Woody poked his head into the room, his hand latching onto the swinging door. "Captain says I'm off the hook."

After being excused from the crime scene, the two of them had headed back to the morgue with the confessing man in handcuffs. Since then, however, that same man was denying his claim that he had killed Lesley Morgan.

Woody took a studying look at the man sitting on one of the benches in the autopsy room. "So, talk me through everything again, Ray. I can call you Ray, can't I?"

Ray Marks rolled his eyes. "I told you. I met Lesley at a bar tonight and we left together. When we got to my place, you can guess what happened next. It was completely consensual, up until she wanted me to play rough."

Woody raised an eyebrow. "And you had a problem with that?"

"Yes," Ray answered while looking squarely at the detective. "She wanted me to put my hands around her throat, and I did. But when she told me to apply pressure…I-I couldn't."

Devan shook her head. "That's not how we found her. Someone must have strangled her."

Ray looked down and cleared his throat nervously. "She made me. I swear I didn't want to hurt her."

Woody inclined his head. "So…who cut her middle?"

Ray swallowed. "She…grabbed a knife from the kitchen and just started…circling it around her stomach. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there and watched her. She looked at me for a second before she…plunged the knife into her stomach. I grabbed my phone to call an ambulance, but she ran out before I could."

Devan looked to Woody. "And that's when…"

"Yeah," Woody cut her off quickly, "I got it."

Sighing, Devan held out a small plastic container to Ray, who frowned. "I need a sample for the rape kit. There's a bathroom just around the corner."

Ray slid off the bench and took the container, sighing in frustration. "I told you, I didn't rape her."

Devan nodded and put on a fake smile. "Whatever."

When Ray was out of earshot, Woody closed in on Devan and looked at her squarely. "So what do you think happened?"

Devan shrugged and peeled off her gloves, throwing them into the bin below her. "I don't know; it's hard to tell the truth when all you've got is the suspect talking."

Woody sighed then. "There's always the victim."

"Yeah," Devan began, "but I'm going to leave her until the morning."

Woody frowned. "I can't hold him until then."

Shaking her head, Devan looked down the hall to the bathroom. "You don't have to; we'll keep in contact. I'm going to leave Jordan to clean up here."

Woody grabbed her arm gently as she was walking passed him. "I'm sorry tonight didn't work out."

She looked him in the eye before turning away and whispering coldly, "So am I."

* * *

Jordan paced Devan's office impatiently. When she had called her that morning, she had meant exactly seven, not seven minutes to eight. Looking at her watch again, Jordan sighed and wondered why it was that time seemed to move slower if you were waiting for something. Or, more specifically, someone.

Another minute ticked by slowly when Devan walked through her office door, glancing at Jordan apologetically. "Sorry, traffic was murder. Speaking of which, you didn't start the autopsy did you?"

Jordan leaned against Devan's desk with a stiff look. "And finished it."

"What?" Devan frowned. "Why?"

Jordan shrugged without much care. "You weren't here at seven. Don't forget that's how things work around here."

Devan sighed. "Fair enough. What did you find?"

Jordan straightened and pulled out a file from behind her. "Results are consistent with Ray's story. No apparent sign of a struggle, even though she was strangled and her oxygen supply was cut off for about ten seconds. The knife wound is on a downward angle, meaning she must have done it herself, the way Ray said she did."

Devan's hand rubbed her face and with a smothered sigh, she looked to Jordan. "I don't believe him. There's just something about it all that doesn't connect…"

There was a quick knock on the door and Woody walked through holding a few papers. "Lesley Morgan's medical records. Every last detail down to an old case of influenza."

Devan rolled her eyes at his emphasis on that last word. "Anything interesting?"

Woody flashed her a smile and raised a brow. "Actually, yes. When Lesley was fifteen, she was raped. They never knew who did it but it was suspected Lesley did, though she never told anyone."

Turning to Jordan with sudden urgency, Devan raised her own eyebrows. "Rape kit?"

Jordan shook her head. "No semen. Only the bruising. If she was raped last night there would be at least some fluid and skin cells from the suspect."

Woody nodded. "Ok, so he's telling the truth." He flicked his gaze to Devan, who stared back with an annoyed look. "After Lesley's rape eleven years ago, she went to a counsellor for three months. I contacted her via phone and requested a meeting."

Jordan headed towards the door. "You two go; I'll get a blood sample to Nigel for a tox screen."

The door clicked shut behind her and both Devan and Woody relaxed slightly. Jordan didn't know they had been together last night when all of this started, and they both wanted to keep it that way. No matter what the present was like now, Devan didn't want to mess with Jordan and Woody's history.

Woody leaned in close. "You didn't return my call."

Devan shrugged and brushed past him, heading towards the door. "I didn't know you called."

Woody stared after her and shook his head, watching her as she walked down the corridor towards the car park. Why was she being so cold?

* * *

The room was warm and filled with photographs and awards. The desk in front of them was a deep brown and cluttered with papers and more displaced photos. The woman was slightly more reformed, her face lined with wrinkles above her eyes and lips. Her short dark brown hair was tied back into a small bun and her jacket was buttoned over the top of her white blouse. She looked at them both expectantly with warm blue eyes, aged with wisdom only.

Woody cleared his throat, the mug of coffee steaming in his hands. "I know this is classified information, but it may help us in our investigation. Did Lesley entertain any thoughts about who it was that raped her?"

Doctor Adrienne Jean shook her head, her hair perfectly still in the bun. "I tried to sort of ease it out of her but it was like she was a locked door without a key. You know, she just couldn't open."

Devan laced her fingers around her own mug of coffee. "Did she express any details about it?"

The older woman sighed before nodding slowly. "She said he put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she was almost unconscious."

Woody and Devan exchanged knowing glances. Woody pulled out a piece of paper from the file resting in his hands. "The autopsy results show that the suspect strangled her for a period of seconds, but he says she told him to."

The counsellor frowned. "Did he say why she made him?"

Devan shook her head. "We were hoping you could."

Doctor Jean sat in silence before sighing reluctantly. "There is a condition that stems from post traumatic stress. It's when the person suffers something horrific and it's played over and over again in the mind. The brain then gets confused between what happened and what is just a figment of the imagination. Specific hormones are created though they are undistinguished between pleasure and pain. There is an unbalance of that particular hormone that throws the body and mind off kilter and confuses the person, leaving them unable to tell the difference between pleasure and pain."

Devan took a long breath and licked her lips. "So what you're saying is that Lesley told the man she was with to rape her…?"

There was a shake of a head. "Not rape. Remember, the brain can't tell the difference. The only thing the brain knows is what happened before."

Woody nodded. "So she wanted to relive it again."

Devan took a long sip of her coffee. "According to our suspect, Lesley stabbed herself in the stomach. Did she mention a knife when she talked to you?"

Adrienne frowned. "Not clearly, but she used to mumble about a knife…something about one going deep. I always assumed it was a metaphor or something."

Nodding, Devan took another sip of her coffee. "If she did this last night then it's possible she's done it before. We're going to need a list," she turned to Woody, "of boyfriends, partners…lovers."

Woody frowned. "Devan, we can't exactly find every one of her sexual partners over the last eleven years. What are we going to do, ask people of the street about their sex lives?"

Devan glared at him with frustrated eyes. "Woody, we need to do everything we can to find the truth…"

"Oh trust me," Woody cut her off, "I'm all for the truth, Devan. That's all I'm for but what you're suggesting is pure madness."

"It's been done before," Devan countered quickly.

"Excuse me," Doctor Jean stopped them both with her powerful voice. She turned to Woody. "Why don't you have a partner?"

Woody frowned in confusion. "Sorry?"

Adrienne Jean rested her hands one on top of the other on her desk neatly. "Isn't it customary to have a detective partner?"

Woody sighed. "No, it's optional. I request not to have a partner, they only get in the way."

The counsellor smiled. "And yet you let a medical examiner tag along. You've had a bad past with partners, haven't you? Maybe even betrayal…?"

Woody stiffened in his chair, his jaw clenching. "No, not me. Thank you for your time, Doctor."

Devan frowned as Woody stood in his chair and walked over to the door. She smiled politely towards the older woman and stood herself. "Thank you."

The counsellor stood as well, looking to Woody. "Lesley's old house is still in tact…and nobody uses it now. It's worth having a look at."

Woody nodded his appreciation before walking through the door, Devan in hot pursuit.

* * *

There were cobwebs hiding everywhere, their sticky residue plastering to Woody's clothes as he trudged through the tall grass. There were upturned wooden boxes, as well as old tattered furniture strewn across the yard. The house itself was completely covered in constricting vines, and was hidden behind a fell of trees and shrubbery. Devan groaned when she walked straight into another cobweb. She stared at Woody's back as he continued walking and she gave a small, frustrated sigh.

"What are we even doing here?" Devan asked to his receding back.

He didn't turn around. "Thought you wanted to find the truth. And besides, that woman knew way too much about this thing, even for a counsellor."

Devan sighed before forcing herself to walk forward. "Maybe she kept in contact with Lesley. Who knows, with Lesley's parents dead and the rest of her family in France, maybe she needed a parental figure."

Woody stopped at a small backyard door and he turned the handle. It was open. "Whatever," he said dismissively as he walked in the house, flicking on some lights.

Devan followed him after a moment's hesitation and she immediately tripped over an upturned box, falling onto Woody's back. She straightened quickly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"Wow," Woody gave her a sarcastic look, "I don't know. Maybe because it's been empty for five years."

"Yeah," Devan walked past him slowly, "or it's you."

He grabbed her arm. "Me? Excuse me, I'm not the one acting like Frosty the Snowman just because my beautifully planned night was ruined by something important, like a person's life!"

Devan snatched her arm away from his grip. "I'm angry at you because you've been acting like you're the only one living in this world. And you're the only one who can be right."

Woody shook his head in disbelief. "I think the real question here is what world are _you_ living in?"

There was a footstep in the next room. They both froze, their heads turned to the open door in front of them. There was no other noise besides their abnormal breathing, partly created by the footstep and mostly created by angry remarks being carried between them both. Woody took a cautious step forward suddenly.

"Is anyone there? This is the police."

Devan cringed. "The police?" she whispered. "Great, we'll be killed now because of that."

Woody shrugged and walked forward into the next room. There was no one there, but there was an open door with stairs leading into a basement. He walked cautiously towards it, Devan following right behind him, her arm holding onto his shoulder. He shrugged it off when they reached the edge of the stairs.

Woody leaned forward. "Is anyone down there?"

"This is the police," Devan added sarcastically.

Suddenly, they were both pushed forward and they toppled down the stairs into the basement. It wasn't a huge drop so the pain was bearable…but only for Devan because she found herself holding onto Woody as they fell. Woody landed first, his head whipping up when it hit the concrete bottom. Devan had a much softer landing and when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring into startled blue ones. She looked down and realised she was lying on top of him.

"Whoa," she said loudly as she quickly straightened and crawled away from him.

Woody sighed and relaxed, panting and cringing at the throbbing pain in his back. "Is it possible to break every bone in your body?"

Devan found the wall and leaned against it. "Yeah, it is."

Woody groaned loudly before looking over to the top of the stairs. The door was closed, no light creeping in. He found himself able to see though because of a glass window at the top of the basement. A foot walked over it suddenly and Woody sat up slowly. He groaned when he heard…and felt a crack in his back.

He looked over to Devan, who had her eyes closed. "Well, this makes things a whole lot more interesting doesn't it?"

"No," she answered quickly, opening her eyes, "it doesn't. Do you have your phone on you?"

Woody reached into his pocket and felt nothing. "No, but as soon as they realise we're missing, they'll come looking for us."

"Oh, great," Devan started sarcastically. "By the time the cops get their lazy asses out of their chairs it'll be ten years from now. That's ten years to ponder on how to kill you."

Woody frowned. "So this is all my fault now?"

"You were the one who wanted to come here," Devan snapped.

Woody nodded and stood up with much difficulty, every bone in his body aching. "And I'm going to be the one to get us out."

Devan closed her eyes and leaned back into the wall. "Here we go again with the hero act. Good luck getting that door open."

Woody placed his hands on his hips. "Who said anything about a door?"

Devan looked up to where he was pointing and saw the small window. "No. We are _not _doing that again."

"Ok," Woody sat back down. "Your loss. But…for what it's worth, you have a nice ass."

Devan stared at him. He grinned back. She shivered and turned away from him. "Thanks, that's worth everything to me."

They sat through an uncomfortable silence for the whole of twenty seconds before Woody sighed loudly. "So what do you want to do?"

Devan shrugged with a bored look. "We could wrestle." She rolled her eyes at his look. "Arm wrestle, dummy."

Woody laughed and turned around to face her. "Sure, worth a try."

Their elbows touched the ground while their hands were tightly clasped. Woody shifted into a lying position and he took a deep breath before he nodded. They both applied pressure at the same time, their hands trying to go in different directions. Woody grimaced and let out a grunt while Devan smirked at his persistence. When Woody was almost shaking from the pressure he was applying, Devan pushed the force from her hand into his, making his hand fall to the ground. She let go of his hand before smirking at him.

"Never compete against a three-time champion," she said smugly and leant back into the wall again.

He returned the smirk before grabbing her hand again and pulling it down, jerking her forward suddenly. "Is that so?" he whispered into her ear.

Devan, taken by surprise, hooked her arm around Woody's shoulders, pulling him down next to her. She sat over him skilfully and held out his arms firmly above his head. He tried to move them but she held his wrists tightly. He smirked at her before using his bodyweight to lift her up and turn her over so she tumbled off him. He quickly straddled her and held her down the same as she had, except he twisted her wrist around in a lock. Letting out a small yell from the stinging pain, Devan glared at him before lifting up her legs and wrapping them around his waist, twisting him over again. This time, he fell with a thud against the cold concrete.

Woody heard the crack before he felt it. "Ouch," he said slowly, his back arched slightly. "I suppose you take yoga lessons, too."

Devan shook her head. "No," she said through quick breaths. "Self defence."

Woody panted heavily. "Even better."

Devan closed her eyes and smiled. "I know. It feels good to kick your ass."

Woody shrugged from his lying position on the floor. "Does it."

Devan opened her eyes and turned her head to the side, away from Woody. She screamed at what she saw. Next to her, in the midst of packed and labelled boxes, was a decaying skeleton. She sat up quickly and shuffled over to Woody, who stared at the body with wide eyes.

Horrified, Devan grabbed Woody's shoulder immaturely. "Oh my God. We've been locked in this room for a little les than ten minutes and there's been a rotting skeleton next to us the entire time. How could we have not seen that?"

Woody sniffed and scrunched up his nose. "Or smelt it."

Devan looked at him with a mixed gaze of annoyance and horror. "Please don't do that."

Woody sighed and looked again at the body, then he frowned. "What are those boxes?"

Before Devan could reply, there was a shuffle above the basement and the click of a door. Light shredded through until the door was completely open and the light from above just blasted them. A silhouette appeared on the top of the stairs and Devan's eyes widened when it started walking towards them. She held onto Woody's shoulder tighter and he turned to give her a look of mock sarcasm.

The silhouette took another step before it stopped dead in its track. "What are you two doing here?"

It was a male voice, as the figure suggested. Devan let out a quick sigh of relief and answered before Woody could. "We're the police."

Woody gave her an annoyed look. "Detective Hoyt, Boston PD. Next to me you'll find Doctor Maguire from the Medical Examiner's Office."

"And next to me you'll find a dead body," Devan added.

Woody frowned. "Who are you?"

The man walked towards them again, his face still hidden by the shadows. "I'm Lesley's brother twice removed."

Confused, Woody turned to Devan with an open mouth and whispered, "Twice removed? How does that even work?"

Devan shrugged. "Don't want to know."

* * *

**A/N: **The twice-removed thing was really just a stupid joke ;) I don't know if that can actually happen. Hmm…a preview for the next chapter…there's a lot of alcohol being consumed…and a lot of awkwardness follows. Read and review peoples!

Peace.


	3. Welcome To My Nightmare

**A/N: **Hello and welcome to my nightmares. A warning that there may be some stripping from my twelve illicit lovers along the way…ok seriously, don't ask about that one. I am currently looking at pictures of Jesse Metcalfe so bear with me until my fangirl-ness has worn off. There, it's gone.

A big shout-out to those wonderful (and I mean it) people who reviewed my last chapter…you guys are fantabolous (my new favourite made-up word)!

**FKW: **Sorry to disappoint but Woody does not kill Devan in this. Not even in a drunken rage. But…don't count out the possibility of an upcoming Woody/Jordan fic either…I'm working on something. I went on to Channel 7's website last night and it said that there was going to be another CJ marathon but no, there had to be a movie on instead! So I'm pissed off at them for building my hopes. But I'll get over it cause Desperate Housewives is on Monday! I'm drooling already. Anywho, thanks for the review! (that rhymes…)

**celticgina: **Thanks for the review :) Read this chapter to find out why they were out together. All questions will be answered. Thanks again.

**littleblackant: **Hehe…I like your name. Merci beaucoup for the review! (wow…I'm rhyming a lot today…) Hope you enjoy the rest of this story :)

Ok, the pleasantries are done so we may now begin. Enjoy it.

**Only For The Truth**  
**Chapter Two: Welcome To My Nightmare**

* * *

Woody paced outside of the interrogation room, the two-way mirror showing him the figure of a sitting man, arms folded across the table and expression dead ahead. The man's build was quite muscular and his clothes didn't hide that fact. His blue muscle shirt was stained with grease while his light blue jeans were worn with tattered holes. His head was shaved and his ears held silver studs in several places. He sat perfectly still on the wooden chair, his teeth chewing on his lip thoughtfully. 

Jordan walked up to Woody and held his shoulder. "Twice removed?"

Woody shook his head. "Don't even try."

Jordan shrugged, glancing towards the man. "What's he saying?"

Woody sighed and walked over to the door of the interrogation room, his hand grasping the handle. "Just that he was at the old house to check up on things. A weekly routine, apparently. He heard noises downstairs and went to investigate."

Jordan nodded. "And that's when he saw you and Devan."

"Yeah," Woody said as he turned the handle, "and the dead body."

Jordan held up her phone and shook it. "Should be getting a call from Devan real soon about it. Can't promise you an ID though."

* * *

Nigel typed rapidly on a keyboard. From the small amount of DNA he could find on the decaying body, none of it was turning up on the screen. No identification at all. The body had been male, and by the looks of things, had been connected to Lesley Morgan in some way. Now all they needed to figure out was how. 

Devan walked through the doors intrusively, her face scanning Nigel's. "Find anything?"

Nigel sighed and shook his head. "Nope, nothing but dead ends. This man had to be someone."

Devan nodded. "Someone from eleven years ago. Right around the time Lesley was raped."

Nigel frowned. "You think he's the rapist?"

She shrugged. "Don't know yet, but it's more than likely. A sharp, metallic object pierced through two of his ribs, tearing them apart in an instant. There's our knife connection."

Nigel chewed his lip. "So if he did rape Lesley eleven years ago then he might have done it before. He'll be on our database."

Devan nodded. "I'll get on to Jordan."

There was a bleep on the computer and Nigel looked at the screen. A name flashed across it.

* * *

Woody placed the printed papers on the desk in front of the disorientated man. "James Kendall. Ring any bells?" 

Nick Morgan shook his head and chewed his lip tentatively, before looking up at Woody. "Should I?"

Woody sighed and exhaled in frustration. "Yes. He raped your sister eleven years ago."

Morgan gave an annoyed look and placed his palm firmly on the table. "Twice removed."

"How does that…?" Woody began quietly in confusion. "Doesn't matter. Look, I need to know how this man ended up dead and decaying inside of your old house."

Morgan tried his best to look irritated. "I don't know! All I want to do is see my sister."

"Twice removed," Woody quickly added smugly.

"Whatever," the man stood up suddenly. "Please, just let me go so I can see her."

Woody sat on the edge of the table, shaking his head slowly. "Not until you tell me how a wanted felon ended up in your basement."

Morgan sighed loudly and pulled his head down with his arm. "Ok, I'll tell you. The night Lesley was raped I came home to find _that_ guy dead on the kitchen floor, a knife sticking out of his chest. Lesley was nowhere to be seen so I went looking for her. She had a bag packed and she was waiting for a bus to take her somewhere, I don't remember where. Anyway, I promised her protection if she stayed here in Boston. I buried him in the backyard that night and we never spoke of it again."

Woody frowned. "So how did his body end up in the basement?"

"How should I know?" Morgan gave a look of irritation. "Can I see her now?"

* * *

Devan walked through the doors of the precinct and a shiver ran up her spine. It always had a cold feeling to it, like an indifference that chilled her. She found Jordan talking to Woody and an officer and stopped a few feet away. Jordan turned to look at her and smiled quickly before the officer escorted her and Nick Morgan out of the room. She looked to Woody, who shrugged and smeared a hand across his face tiredly. 

"We've got nothing," he said with an irritated sigh. "Apparently the rapist found dead was killed by Lesley the night he attacked her and Nick came home to find him on the kitchen floor with Lesley nowhere. He found her at the bus station a few blocks down trying to hitch a ride somewhere."

Devan frowned. "I don't get the whole 'twice removed' thing…"

"Forget about that," Woody said as he took her hand and opened the door to the interrogation room. "We've got some sorting to do."

When they were both in the room Devan looked at the two-way mirror and gave Woody a look of confusion. "You do realise people can just…see us, don't you?"

Woody looked up, unfazed. "Yeah."

He pulled up a box from the floor and placed it on the table. He began sifting through its contents and pulled out old books and diaries. He raised his eyebrows at Devan and smirked. She shook her head and sat on the edge of the table, picking up a random notebook.

"Dear Diary," she began reciting. "Today Nick told me he would keep me safe. There is no safe. That monster hurt me and I feel the pain everywhere I am. Even though he's dead, he lives in my memory."

Woody shrugged, picking up a book and reading a page. "Poor girl. She was hurting."

Devan gave him a scathing look. "You think? Hey, take a look at this…"

She leaned over the table to where he was sitting and pointed to a line in the diary. Woody read out loud instinctively. "Adrienne said that I needed to deal with my pain. How, when I know there are others out there hurting people?"

Devan raised an eyebrow. "She mentioned Adrienne, the counsellor. And the date's exactly six months after the attack. How long do you think she was seeing a counsellor?"

Woody shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"Well," Devan said as she slid off the table and walked around Woody. "She was still hurting after six months. And Adrienne never recommended anything to her before this time. If she had the girl's best interest at heart, she would try to help her as soon as possible."

Woody frowned. "I don't get it."

Devan sighed in frustration. "Look, forget it. Wasn't important, anyway."

"Whatever," Woody dismissed. "Ok, we need a list of suspects who could have possibly been in the house before with us. We've got the twice removed brother and the creepy counsellor so far."

Devan nodded. "And don't forget Ray Marks. Even though the rape kit came back negative, he probably violated her in some way and wanted us to pay for it."

Woody shook his head and sifted through another cardboard box. "I'm letting him go."

Devan stared at him. "What? Why?"

Woody shrugged. "Because he didn't do anything. And I take his word for it."

"You're dismissing him just because you believe what he said?" she asked incredulously. "How do we even know they had met that night? They could've known each other before and he staged her death to look like a suicide."

Woody looked up and faced Devan squarely. "You're reading way too much into this."

"And you're not reading into it enough," she countered coolly. "Even if he didn't kill her he contributed to her injuries. He should at least be charged with being an accessory or something."

"If that's the way you think, take it up alone," Woody said coldly.

She stopped in her tracks, her mind racing. She frowned and said quietly, "What is this really about? You've been weird about this case from the beginning."

"Devan, I was this close," he held up his hand and left a small space between his index finger and his thumb, "to being over the limit. If anyone found out I had been drinking I would have my badge taken away from me. This case isn't worth that."

Devan looked away from his probing blue eyes. "I thought you were all about finding the truth."

"I'll tell you the truth," he began spitefully. "Being with you could ruin my career."

Devan, taken aback, couldn't move. They had gone for drinks that night and it had been Woody's suggestion that they go to his place afterwards. Stepping back from the table, Devan left the room without a word, leaving Woody to stare after her.

* * *

It was past midnight and he still couldn't find her, or even reach her on her phone. He had a feeling she might be at a bar, but which one he hadn't a clue. Stopping suddenly, he looked up towards a sign that flashed with neon lights. Woody shrugged and walked through the door and after hearing the bells clink above him, he looked over to the counter. It was there that he saw her and walked over. 

He looked at her with a sense of confusion and frowned. "What are you doing here?"

She turned to look up at him with an accentuated smile. "You know, the usual."

He was taken aback by her soft tone of voice and wondered at the strange look in her eyes. He then looked down at her drink, which was half-empty. "Are you drunk?"

She laughed quietly and lifted her hand, positioning her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Just a little."

"Devan," Woody began and took up the stool next to hers, "you're not doing this alone, you know."

Devan shrugged. "Yeah, but I am alone in what I think. Doesn't matter though…"

He watched her finish her drink with audacity and shook his head, taking her hand firmly. "You're finished here."

She struggled under Woody's tight grip; unable to break free when he pulled her up. "Woody…"

"I'm taking you home," he said with an acquired authority.

Devan raised her eyebrow before following him outside willing. "Really."

The drive to Woody's apartment was uncomfortable, with both of them sitting in silence, and Devan every now and then trying to find some sort of an escape. Twice Woody had to lean over her at a red light to pull the door shut, because she had attempted to walk out of the car. The second time he had to do this, there was a pause between when he had closed the door and was supposed to straighten. In this instance, he had instead lingered close to her. The light then changed to green and Woody had no choice but to drive.

The car stopped suddenly outside a building and Devan looked up at it with tired eyes. Woody cleared his throat before opening his car door and walking over to the passenger's side, flicking open Devan's door. She looked up at him with reluctant eyes. Eventually, though, he took her hand again and pulled her up, but when she stepped out of the car, she tripped over the gutter and fell forward. Woody caught her and sighed while shaking his head. Both of them knew it was going to be a long night.

Limping up the stairs to Woody's apartment, Devan leaned heavily against his shoulder and welcomed his arm around her waist for support. When they finally reached his door, Woody pulled out his keys and unlocked his room, ushering Devan in and closing the door firmly behind him, locking it so she wouldn't try to escape again. He didn't exactly want to be responsible for her going to work tomorrow with a hangover or not going at all because she had 'forgotten'.

Devan looked around, disorientated. "Why are we here?"

Woody sighed and took her hand, leading her to his bedroom. "Because my place is closer to the morgue than yours."

He sat her down on the bed and took off her shoe to examine her ankle but she looked at him with a frown. "Excuse me?"

"You've rolled your ankle, Dear," he said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. "Try to sit still."

He rubbed her ankle professionally and Devan tried hard not to flinch. His touch was gentle and everything she wanted, but she couldn't let him see that. She would be crossing so many lines if she gave in to what she wanted. Woody stopped suddenly and searched for a bandage to wrap around her ankle. When he found one, Devan dictated to him what he should do.

"Tighter," she instructed. "Make sure you wrap around the entire foot."

Woody, however, was in awe at how clearly Devan spoke when she was intoxicated. She wasn't slurring, which was a good sign that a massive hangover didn't loom on her horizon for the morning. And as such, a massive headache didn't loom on Woody's horizon. When he looked up again, he was surprised to see Devan smirking at him.

"What?" he asked indignantly.

She shook her head. "You."

He frowned and sat up on the bed behind her. "Is that some kind of personal attack?"

Her smirk widened suddenly and she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She leaned back into his chest and forced him to lie back on the bed. Woody rolled his eyes and tried to wriggle free, but he found it surprisingly hard to move under her weight. So he just lay there and waited for her to drift off to sleep. It was going smoothly when…

"Will you sing to me?"

Woody's face lined into a frown at the soft, very drunk murmur. It was going to be a _very _long night, indeed.

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, that one's over. I know a common question among you all right now is 'what the hell was she on when she wrote this!' Coffee and coke mix quite well actually… 


	4. Never Knowing

**A/N: **Long, long overdue I know…but I have mysteriously found some inspiration for this fic, and it came from a night of coffee-induced writing. Yep yep. On a little side note, some of the characters in this may confuse those who have yet to refresh their memories so I'll give y'all a little glossary:

**Lesley Morgan** – Woman who was found dead in the prologue, after Woody accidentally ran her down.

**Nick Morgan** – Lesley's brother…twice removed. Hehe.

**Ray Marks **– Husband of my homeroom teacher…j/k. The man who was with Lesley when she allegedly stabbed herself. 

**James Kendall** – Man who raped Lesley eleven years ago…and was found dead in the basement of Lesley's old house.

**Adrienne Jean** – Lesley's old shrink.

Hope that clears some things up.

I'd like to thank** FKW** for the review…I know how hard it is to say moderately good things about a story involving your least favourite couple. So cheers, and have some beer :)

**Only For The Truth  
****Chapter Three: Never Knowing**

* * *

Everything was quiet. Not a sound penetrated the early morning peace and as Devan woke slowly, she felt the strange need to scratch her nose. Opening her eyes reluctantly, she felt the onslaught of nauseating pain in her head. A result from drinking, she knew, but she could not remember the details of the night before. Lifting her head, she sighed at the striking pain. Then she looked down at the bed sheets. They weren't hers and she panicked suddenly. Her memory was fuzzy and she dreaded looking to her side to find out who it was beside her. She looked down at the strong arm that embraced her middle and she noted the fact that they were both clothed, which was a good sign.

She frowned when she realised where his second arm was positioned. She felt his elbow in the small of her back, while his hand reached down a little lower. Turning her head carefully to the side, she caught a glimpse of his dark brown hair, messy around his head. Her heart skipped a beat. She had a feeling it would be him, although she didn't know how. The last thing she remembered was drinking alone in a bar…then it came to her. He had shown up and taken her back to his place, which she assumed was where they were now. Then everything else was a blur. A blur of motion that didn't make quite sense.

Shaking her head, she shifted forward and sat up slowly, taking in a deep breath. Her ankle hurt and she frowned because it felt heavy. They were both covered in a light sheet and she shivered on impulse. Sliding one leg out from the blanket, she turned to move the other one when a hand grabbed onto her own from behind her. She turned around and snatched it away quickly, frowning at his satisfied smirk.

"How's your head?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Why do you care?" she retorted tiredly, sliding out of the bed skilfully.

Woody shrugged contently. "I don't know. It might have something to do with the fact that you were extremely vulnerable last night."

Devan laughed bitterly. "And I thank you so very much for not taking advantage. Thoughtful."

Woody's smirk widened. "How do you know I didn't? You can't remember much."

She countered his smirk as she walked around his bed towards his bathroom. "Oh trust me, I know you didn't. I _would _remember that."

Woody laughed and didn't object when she walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower. She needed one, anyway. He lay still in his bed for a few minutes before sliding out of his side and walking towards the kitchen, where he made some coffee and poured two mugs. He then looked around in his fridge and smiled when he found what he wanted. He prepared 'breakfast' and walked back over to the bathroom, where he could hear the pelting of water.

"Last night," he said loudly through the door, "you said you were alone. Do you still think that?"

He heard the slightly muffled answer. "If that's the case, consider me in good company."

Woody laughed and he heard the shower stop. "Does this inspiration come from waking up and finding me next to you?"

"No."

"Oh," he said quietly, almost disappointed. "Because you know…"

"Woody," Devan cut him off, "don't want to know."

Woody sighed and walked back into the kitchen, where he waited for another ten minutes before Devan finally emerged from the bathroom. He smiled at her coyly while she frowned at his smug look. She walked up to him and shook her head, and he pointed to a glass sitting on the bench.

She stared at it and swallowed. "What is that?"

Woody glanced proudly at the glass. "Prairie Oyster."

Devan frowned. "What?"

Woody folded his arms and shrugged. "Egg yolk, a dash of pepper, tomato juice…vinegar. Stuff like that, you know."

She nodded and studied the glass, repulsed by the contents. "Please tell me that is for you. Like, some sort of energy drink or something."

"No," Woody said slowly while shaking his own head. "It's _great_ for hangovers."

"Ok," Devan began professionally, "where I'm from, we just drink coffee. Then throw it up…repetitively."

Woody raised an eyebrow and a finger. "Is that what you were doing in there?"

Devan smirked when he pointed to the bathroom. "No, actually. I was trying to erase your permanent handprint from my ass, but it didn't work."

Woody laughed as he leaned in. "Nice image."

Devan smiled falsely and moved away. "Yeah."

* * *

Jordan picked up her coffee mug and looked at it cautiously before downing what remained of the black coffee, then almost spat it out as it had become cold. She sat at her desk warily with a hand wound through her hair, her eyes trailing over Lesley Morgan's autopsy report. Even though the case was days old already and she was letting Devan do most of the legwork, she still felt a certain calling, like she had to do something. The only major exterior wound on the body was the stab wound that cut deep into the woman's stomach lining. Apart from that there were minor bruises around her upper arms and faint handprints around her throat from where Ray Marks had strangled her.

Sexual penetration had taken place, and there was minor bruising, but nothing that suggested rape. It had been consensual, and proved Ray Marks' story. Unfortunately for them. Dismissing him from the case meant that Lesley's death had to be labelled a suicide caused by traumatic experiences and the stress that related to them. Marks was off the hook and there was no one to pay the price for Lesley's death.

There was a sharp knock on the door of Jordan's office, and she snapped back to reality. "Yeah?"

Woody walked in, wearing an expectant look. "I need a copy of Lesley Morgan's autopsy results."

Jordan sighed and held out the file. "You can take this one. I'm done with it."

After taking the manila folder, Woody flipped it open impulsively. "Anything we missed?"

"Not a thing," Jordan said quietly as she leant back into her chair. "Complete dead end in the way of suspects. Lesley Morgan's a victim of herself."

Woody stared at her. "She was a victim of rape. If anything, James Kendall is the man responsible for her death, just like he was responsible for her rape eleven years ago. Too bad he's dead now."

Jordan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, thanks to Lesley. You know, this case is a real contradiction. Everyone who's a victim is an accused."

There was a small silence between them, before Jordan took a deep breath. "Woody…" she began, uncertain.

He perked up, his eyebrows lifting. "Yeah…?"

Jordan licked her lips. "Are you and Devan…you know…together?"

Woody let out a nervous laugh. "Are you kidding me? We're not even close."

Nodding, Jordan held his gaze. "You two were together the night Lesley died. I just wondered if it was anything…"

"Jordan," Woody interrupted. "There's nothing going on between me and her. I was just driving her home that night, that's all."

Woody was surprised at how easily he had lied through his teeth to Jordan. He immediately felt a pang of guilt and tried to smile it away, but it was still there even as he thanked her for the autopsy report and retreated from the room.

* * *

The conference room was unnaturally quiet as Lily arranged the photos and personal effects of Lesley Morgan on the table. She was dreading the moment when Nick Morgan would walk in and see the photos, break down in tears, and demand to know what had happened. She had been through it all so many times before that every angry or overwhelmed relative became routine for her. How to deal with it all came with time but it was also natural for Lily.

There was a small knock and she stiffened suddenly, aware of the figure behind the frosted door. She walked over and opened the door slowly, gradually revealing a man of muscled build who wore a professional look.

"I'm Nick Morgan," he said quietly, repressing the emotion. "Lesley's brother."

Lily smiled and nodded. "Of course. Come in."

Nick Morgan took up a seat and swallowed at the photos of his dead sister. "She was a good person."

Lily sat carefully down on an opposite chair and placed her clasped hands on the table. "I'm sure she was, Mr. Morgan."

"Call me Nick," he said in a small voice.

"Nick," Lily began in a quiet tone, "the manor in which Lesley died is confronting for anybody, but because you were so close to her I'd imagine it's much more disturbing for you."

"The man who killed her," Nick Morgan said as he ignored Lily's soft tone, "is he being charged?"

Lily swallowed. "Um…I think that's a question to ask the police, Mr. Morgan."

Morgan shook his head. "I've already asked the police. They wouldn't tell me anything."

Hesitating, Lily took a silent breath. "There have been no formal charges at this time. But they're still investigating."

Nick Morgan stared daggers at Lily. "Still investigating? What's taking them so long? That man who killed Lesley confessed. Isn't that enough for them?"

Lily frowned. "With all due respect, Mr. Morgan, I'm not authorised to talk about that. I'm a grief counsellor; I counsel people who are grieving."

"Then what am I doing here?" Nick Morgan whispered icily before plucking up Lesley's personal effects and stalking out of the room.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief when he had left the room. She had seen the aggressive approach many times before and still felt frightened by it. She only hoped that Nick Morgan's anger would not turn into revenge for his sister.

* * *

Devan stretched in the small space between the back of her chair and her desk. Staring at her fourth cup of coffee for that day, not including the one Woody had made for her that morning; she yawned and shook her head slightly. It was only three in the afternoon and already she felt like showering and sleeping. She wrote a few more notes down on the paper in front of her before cursing as the pen ran out of ink. She reached over for another one and something caught her eye immediately.

Woody smiled at her. "Working hard?"

She glared at him. "I see you're not."

He shrugged. "Lunch break."

"At three in the afternoon?" Devan asked disbelievingly.

Woody pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against and walked slowly over to her, studying her look. "You're jealous."

She raised her eyebrows. "What, of you? Please…"

"Admit it," he said slyly as he folded his arms over his chest.

She stood, levelling his look. "Why would I be?"

Woody answered quickly, as if he had prepared it, "Because I have freedom within my job and you don't."

"I hate you," Devan said spitefully, ignoring his quipped comment. "I think you're arrogant and extremely stupid."

"Likewise," Woody countered coolly.

Devan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Likewise?"

He shrugged again. "It's true."

"You're loving this," Devan laughed coldly.

Woody looked smug. "Every second of it."

The air between them was cold, although their teasing taunts were anything but. Denial was a part of any relationship, and what they were feeling was exactly that. Devan was stumped. She had nowhere else to go, and she knew Woody had a whole chapter to recite if he wanted to. She swallowed and tried to think with a racing mind.

"I don't know why I put up with you," she managed to say quite calmly.

Woody smirked. "Because you're attracted to me."

"What?" Devan feigned a horrified look. "Attracted? As in pulled to you by some invisible, magnetic force we call lust? You're insane. Absolutely insane."

Woody's eyes sparkled. "We both know it's true. I see the way you look at me. Your eyes follow my every movement. Admit it, you want me."

Devan swallowed hard again. How had it taken this turn? "Oh really? Well then if I'm so attracted to you, why haven't I ever kissed you?"

Woody smiled and leaned forward. "You're afraid of the repercussions."

That in itself would have been enough to completely dumbfound Devan, but Woody took an extra step.

"You're afraid of what your feelings for me might turn into," he said as he shrugged. "It's okay, we've all been scared at some time in our lives."

Devan glared harder at him than she ever had. "You think I'm a coward?"

"Don't feel bad about it," Woody stepped back carefully. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She took a countering step towards him. "Why am I a coward?"

Woody took on a mock frown. "I've just been telling you but if you want me to repeat it all…"

"After everything we've been through, you think I'm a coward?" Devan was too overwhelmed to realise Woody was just trying to stir her up.

Woody nodded. "Coward in the sense that you don't like to make the first move."

Devan was surprised at that. She was only trying to respect him when she had resisted making a move any time they had been alone. Respect his latent feelings. But had she known he _wanted _her to make a move, she would have. If not for her own hesitations. She stared at him, his blue shirt and the way it seemed to plaster against his body. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing his lower arms. How strong they were. How secure that had been around her that morning. How they had felt against her…

She shivered and pulled herself back into reality. She realised Woody was staring at her with a somewhat 'so what are you going to do now?' look. She glanced into his eyes, then followed his nose down to his lips. They were slightly open and waiting for her to respond. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. It was soft, not demanding in any way, and a fresh shiver ran up the base of her spine.

Devan pulled back slowly, breaking the momentary kiss. She looked into his eyes to see his response but was distracted when a phone began to ring. The source of it came from Woody's pant pocket. He pulled it out, flipped it open and answered,

"This is Hoyt."

Devan closed her eyes and moved back.

"Okay, thanks." Woody hung up and looked at Devan, but didn't meet her eyes. "Another body."

* * *

Woody looked up from where he was squatting. The male body had been found in the back of an alleyway, behind an apartment block. Two shots in a straight line, one through the heart. Dead in an instant. He glanced back down and closed over the dead eyes of Ray Marks, a victim of a violent death. A man caught in the middle. A man accused, though not guilty.

Devan walked up to him, but kept her distance. "In the middle of a work day. Nice place to kill someone."

Woody looked at her briefly before glancing back down at the body. "I think we have a vigilante on our hands."

* * *

**A/N: **Dun dun dun…vigilantes are cool. I like 'em. Reviews are appreciated as usual!

Peace.


	5. An Overdue Cure

**A/N: **Ah…_After Dark _is such a wonderful episode…much loved by me. As is many other things. Like Fanta. And food. And…I can't remember exactly. Don't mind me, I'm spacing. Better move on to the chapter now. Okay.

But before I do, a short recap for those with memories likes fish (myself included):

The body of Ray Marks (the dude who was the last person 'with' Lesley Morgan before she um…killed herself) was found in an alley, murdered in cold blood. Earlier that day, Lily had counselled Lesley's brother Nick, whom was angry and wanted revenge on the person that 'killed' his sister. Also earlier that day, there was a momentary, first kiss situation between Devan and Woody. Mwahahaha! My evil plans will rule the earth someday, I tell you!

**Only For The Truth  
****Chapter 4: An Overdue Cure**

* * *

Jordan cringed as she plucked the nine-millimetre bullet out of Ray Marks' heart with surgical tweezers. She moved it over towards a plastic container where she watered the blood off it with a small hose-like tube. She examined it quickly before dumping it into the container, where it lay next to the other one she had pulled from the body. She sighed and peeled off her gloves.

She nodded towards Devan. "You want to do the honours?"

"Absolutely," Devan replied, stepping over to the body to clean it up.

Jordan yawned. "That'll make my job easier. He has a brother coming in later tonight to identify him, then we can sign him out."

Devan nodded while picking up a small sewing kit. "Okay." She paused and looked over to Jordan. "Can I ask you something?"

Looking up, Jordan flashed an expectant glance. "Go ahead."

Devan took a quick breath in. "Have you ever preformed surgery before?"

Jordan frowned at the oddly-placed question. "Yeah, once or twice. After that, I decided dead people were more my thing. Why?"

Devan shrugged as she threaded a needle through Ray Marks' dead skin. "Just curious."

"What about you?" Jordan asked on impulse.

"I did a residency at a hospital about a year ago," Devan replied quickly. "Turned out to be a delicate operation, and I'm not exactly the delicate type."

Jordan smiled, understanding. "That makes two of us. Are you right here, 'cause I really want to clean up and go home."

Devan nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good," Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She pushed the doors of the autopsy room open, and Nigel walked in wearing an anxious look. He turned to Devan and noted the fact that the autopsy was yet to be completed.

"Ray Marks' brother is here," he said before biting his lip.

Devan looked up from her sewing and chewed her own lip. "Can you get Lily to delay him just a little? I need some more time on this one."

Nigel nodded and was about to leave the room when a nagging thought stopped him. "Woody's waiting for you in your office…"

Devan made a half-hearted attempt to roll her eyes. "Let him wait."

* * *

Woody tugged on his ear and yawned. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. Ten minutes to ten at night. And he was tired. He sighed when he realised she was doing this on purpose. Procrastinating so that he would be pissed off. She did it for her own amusement, he knew, but why was beyond him. What had he ever done to her?

He stood from the leather chair suddenly, aware of her presence in the room. "I've been waiting in here for an hour."

Devan shrugged at his angry tone. "Who told you to stay here? You've could've gone down the road, bought some coffee and ordered some take-out…"

"You told me to stay here," he answered quickly, cutting her off.

"Oh," she replied distantly, deliberately speaking slowly, "so I did."

"What did you find?" Woody asked quickly, ignoring her. If she wanted to play games, that was fine with him.

Devan sighed dramatically, leaned back against her desk and folded her arms. "Two bullet wounds, one just above his collar bone and the other straight through his chest."

"Anything else…?" Woody prompted.

Devan hid a smirk. "Last meal he ate was surprisingly small, with maybe just a single slice of vegetarian pizza filling up most of his stomach content. Small contusions on his upper arms and a vertical scar across his back. Oh, and he has a small mole on his left ass-cheek."

Woody sighed, giving her one of his annoyed beyond belief looks. "Anything that links the killer to the body?"

Devan nodded with a smile. "A blonde hair and a few prints found on his wrists and clothes."

"Are you running them?" Woody asked quickly.

"As we speak," Devan answered, countering his quick tone.

Woody began to walk around Devan, his eyes carefully avoiding hers. Before he felt for the door handle, however, he turned back around and asked dangerously, "Why are you pissed off at me?"

Devan stared at him, wide-eyed, playing the innocent card. "Excuse me?"

Woody leaned in, speaking quietly but firmly. "Was it the thing that happened before, or what I said before it happened?"

"Wow," Devan glanced at her watch, mocking him slightly, "you managed to last…five hours without mentioning it. Good work."

"Is it the sexual tension? Because I can feel something there and it can be…overwhelming…"

Devan cringed as Woody continued guessing. "Woody, listen. The tension's good, I've always been a fan, and the flirting is fun. The kiss was nice but…I don't think this is going to work."

Woody stopped and opened his mouth slightly, his eyes fixed on hers. "Okay…"

Devan looked down and sighed inwardly. "It's just that…we work together, well, sort of and…if it didn't work out then we'd have to deal with seeing each other regularly and working together on cases…and being in elevators together."

Woody lifted an amused brow. "That's worked out just fine before."

Devan wondered at the strangely seductive way he had said the word 'fine'. She was lost for words and said the only one she could find, "No."

Woody watched as she brushed past him and walked through the door, closing it quite loudly behind her. He frowned in confusion, wondering if all she had said was just a clever play…or maybe she really was afraid of what she felt. Only time would tell…

* * *

Jordan yawned before she took another sip of her…slightly cold coffee. She watched Nigel type on a keyboard and felt a twinge of jealousy she had never really felt before. She wondered unfairly why Nigel was the one capable of carrying out all the technical babble and not her. Not that she really cared, anyway. Cutting up bodies was good enough for her. The doors of the lab were pushed open suddenly and a disgruntled Devan walked through, her hair out and her hand running through it quickly. She held a large coffee in her other hand.

Jordan lifted an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

Devan shook her head. "Don't even get me started."

She noticed Woody standing quietly beside Jordan and averted her eyes, to instead focus on the screen above her. Nigel was busy typing something and Devan didn't even bother interrupting him to say a good morning…not that it really was. Maybe good _mourning_ would have sufficed.

Jordan pointed towards the screen. "Nigel found a match on the prints found on Ray Marks' body and clothes."

Nigel sighed. "Yes, and since the computer very nicely decided just this morning to crash on me, I'm having a hard time pulling it up again. Bear with me, ladies." He flicked his gaze over to Woody. "And…gent."

"Thanks, Nigel," Woody began in an annoyed voice, "but I don't really feel like one lately."

Devan sighed. "Please, feel free to share with the class."

Woody glared at her. "You know, maybe you should take a lesson on human behaviour."

"Children!" Nigel held out his hands. "Please!"

Devan blinked, took a sip of her coffee and pretended to lose interesting in baiting Woody. "Maybe you should take a shower."

Woody looked at her, beyond annoyed. "How about we save water?"

Devan frowned. "Don't go there."

"Lenny Keller," Nigel interrupted skilfully when the computer bleeped and a face appeared on the screen. "Drug runner, arms dealer, con artist…the only thing this guy isn't going for is Sainthood."

Jordan smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Nige."

"No problem, Love," Nigel replied as he walked off. "Anything else, call me."

Jordan stared at the screen, studying the face of the man they needed to find. His dark, cropped hair indicated he had been incarcerated more than once, as did the sign he held underneath his chin that read his name. And his outstanding criminal record helped a lot. Still, here was a man who knew the law. So why leave prints on the man he killed?

"I'm going to find him," Woody whispered quickly to Jordan, ignoring Devan. "I'll call you when I pick him up."

Devan laughed from where she was standing and both Woody and Jordan lifted individual eyebrows. "There are so many wonderful things about _that_ sentence."

Woody flashed her a sour look before walking briskly out of the lab and down the corridor.

* * *

The interrogation room seemed to shudder at the prickly atmosphere. Lenny Keller sat on one of the wooden chairs, slouched backwards in a relaxed position. The sort you'd expect from a criminal. Many earrings studded both of his ears and several other features on his face, and there was a chain that hung loosely from his neck. It didn't reach very far, resting against the top of his chest, but it looked quite heavy. His black eyes roamed the room in a bored way, his expression plain and expectant. His attire of grease-stained black pants and a dirty white shirt that hung open was anything but subtle.

Woody entered the room, sucking in the room's atmosphere with a short breath. "You've been a bad boy, Keller. Mind telling me where you were yesterday afternoon at around three?"

"Three you say?" Keller lifted his chin into the air, mockingly thinking. "Just about to feed my kid broccoli and carrots."

Woody laughed almost painfully slow. "That's cute. But you and I both know you've never reproduced in your life. Now, the truth would be nice."

Keller frowned. "What is the truth, Detective? Is it something that's real, or what someone wants to believe? Anything can be true if someone really wants to believe it."

Woody considered the words, then rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt. "I guess the truth is that yesterday afternoon, you shot someone twice, once through the heart. And left some trails behind for us to follow."

Keller smiled, showing his teeth. "I didn't shoot anybody. Only roughed him up a bit."

Woody gestured with his hand. "Oh, so you know who I'm talking about?"

"Ray Marks," Keller answered while nodding. "He was a hit of mine."

Woody sat down on the table and shifted until he was comfortable. "I guess we can add hit man to your increasing list of crimes. Who hired you?"

Keller narrowed his eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of confidentiality? That stuff's private."

Woody smiled falsely. "Between one sicko and another. Stay right here."

As the door closed behind him, Woody pointed a finger. "I'm going to get a name out of him even if I have to beat it out."

Devan shrugged, looking bored. "Why are you telling me that instead of doing it?"

Woody sighed impatiently. "What are you even doing here?"

Devan threw her head back dramatically. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm drawn to you by some magnetic force that I just can't deny."

"Okay," Woody began seriously, "that's got to stop."

Devan frowned. "What?"

"The sniping," he replied quickly. "It's getting old."

Devan rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Thanks for the phone call last night. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

Woody shrugged. "Just tyring to get you to apologise."

Devan looked incredulous. "For what?"

"Making me wait a very long time for you tell me what I already knew last night," Woody said quickly, avoiding her eyes skilfully. "That was mean."

Devan gave him a scathing look. "Okay, you want to talk about sniping. Anyway, I'm going home. Call me if anything pops up."

Woody watched as she turned around and walked away, a smirk slowly appearing on his face. He appreciated her confusion and even felt like apologising for creating it, but it was just so much fun to do.

* * *

There was a knock on her door and Devan hurried to answer it. Woody. She saw the blood on his shirt and immediately ushered him inside. His shirt was cut in a tight strip along the left side of his chest, and she guessed by the amount of blood the wound was pretty deep. Taking his hand firmly, she gently pushed him down onto the floor next to her bed, looking around for any appliances for the slash wound. Finding an alcohol swab next to a cotton gauze, she knelt down in front of him and shook her head.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

Woody shook his head and groaned. "I don't know. One minute I was walking and the next he was on me, holding me down in a choke hold. I don't remember what happened next."

Devan frowned. "And you found your way here?"

He shrugged. "It was close. Can you take a look at it?"

Devan paused before reaching up to his eyes and peering into them. They were flickering heavily and he was having a hard time keeping them open.

"Hold still," she said as she placed one finger on his eyelid and lifted it up. His eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Devan," Woody began irritably, "it's not my eyes that are cut."

"Do you want my help or not?" she snapped bitterly, still with her hand on his face. She quickly moved it away and swallowed heavily.

Sighing, Woody took a deep breath before nodding his answer. "Sorry, it just hurts."

"Yeah, well," Devan ripped open the cotton gauze with a grimace, "imagine being a woman."

Woody managed a half-smile. "No thank you."

Devan's smile was short-lived. His shirt needed to be removed and when Devan looked down towards his hands, they were shaking. His eyes were open now, and barely flickering. He shrugged slightly when he realised why she was delaying going any further. Devan took a shaky breath and reached over to unbutton the top of Woody's shirt. She immediately noticed the fine detail of the top of his chest and willed herself suddenly not to be distracted. She had a job to do. Undoing the rest of the stubborn buttons, Devan realised Woody had his eyes closed and she was thankful he could not see the blush that was rising on her cheeks.

His eyes opened suddenly when she reached the last button and he cleared his throat impulsively. "Thanks."

Her hand reached inside the shirt and she slid it off slowly, watching it fall to the ground. She swallowed hard. "You're welcome."

Devan reached for the alcohol swab, peeling off the protective layer before placing it around the wound on Woody's chest. Sliding it across instinctively, Devan noticed the excessive amount of blood that was soaked up. Woody cringed at the sting and held out his hand, grabbing onto Devan's wrist.

She looked up at him with an apologetic look. "Sorry, forgot to warn you."

He shook his head and let go of her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. "It's fine. Doesn't hurt that much."

Devan smiled before looking behind her. "Did you want to lie down?" She stopped when she realised how that sounded. Frowning at his smirk, she shook her head. "I mean, it might be more comfortable."

Woody's smirk remained even as he shook his own head slightly. "I'm good."

Devan nodded before looking back down at the cut. It was still bleeding, but she hoped with the alcohol swab it would stop soon. Skimming over the wound lightly, she watched as Woody cringed again. Part of her actually wanted to see him in pain, but the sensitive side felt exactly what he was feeling. The blood tinged the outside of the wound a smeared red but the cut itself was a darker shade.

"You're lucky," Devan began in a quiet voice. "Any deeper and you would've severed an artery."

Woody sighed and closed his eyes. "Guess I'm just a lucky kind of guy."

Devan looked at him before reaching behind her for the cotton gauze. She placed it over the cut carefully; making sure it was stuck down firmly on the sides. Woody breathed a quick sigh of relief before opening his eyes, only to find Devan staring at him. She averted her eyes quickly, willing her cheeks to stop burning. He didn't look away, though. His eyes remained focused on her even when she moved into a sitting position.

He smiled when her eyes flicked over to him. "So this is your room," he said while looking around. "Always imagined it to be…bigger."

She levelled his look. "You've imagined my room?"

His eyes widened. "Not really. I mean, sometimes I…never mind."

Devan smirked, though it was more of an involuntary action. "Okay."

They sat in silence…on the floor. Devan rested her back against her bed while Woody sat with his arms around his legs. The cut didn't hurt anymore and he was thankful for that, although he still felt dizzy after the attack. His eyes had returned to their normal colour, no longer flushed with blood, and his muscles didn't seem to ache anymore. It wasn't a cold night so not wearing a shirt didn't affect him much. The only problem was Devan could not look at him for a second before turning away. He had always known he had some affect on her, but not like this. This was serious.

Devan sucked in a short breath and turned to him, her eyes meeting his. "Do you want something to eat?"

Woody shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Being stabbed with a kitchen knife really takes a lot out of you."

He shifted his position slightly and Devan flinched involuntary. He noticed but didn't make an attempt to question it; he knew why she was so tense. An unresolved kiss can have repercussions. Serious ones. Woody smiled suddenly, teasing her when he moved forward an inch or two. She swallowed and looked down, a dizziness spinning in her head. He was playing her to see her reaction. She gazed up at him suddenly, an undertone of a pleading look reflecting in her eyes asking him to stop.

He didn't. He moved closer still so their noses were almost touching, his breath fanning over her face. It was almost unbearable and the only thing keeping Devan there was the desire she wanted so much to give in to. Woody's face came forward as he leaned over her, but she inched her own face back. Woody quickly flicked his eyes to hers just to be sure and when she closed them he placed his lips over hers, softly at first, just to see how she responded. There was a sigh and he broke the kiss.

"What are we doing?" Devan whispered as her head lowered and her eyes closed.

Woody shifted, taking Devan's hand and standing up. When his hand rested on her cheek he replied with his own whisper, "What we both want."

Devan's lips widened into a smile as Woody kissed her again…and this time she surrendered to it.

* * *

**A/N: **As I said before, mwahahahahaha! 


	6. Nobody Can Win

**A/N: **Wow, I just realised how long I've left this…it seems like ages ago. I wrote this chapter a while ago but I didn't update it cause I sora forgot about it. Yes, I'm a bad mother.

Anyway, last chapter Devan and Woody shared a night together, just to recap for the people with short-term memories. Myself included.

I just want to shout out to FKW for reviewing. My lone reviewer. Love you heaps :) And thanks to the people that read this but don't review…I like to read my hits :)

**Only For The Truth  
****Chapter 5: Nobody Can Win**

* * *

Nigel noticed it immediately. The averted eyes, the avoiding looks, the space between them…something was definitely wrong. He only half-listened to what Sidney was talking about, though he knew he should pay more attention to the young doctor,but instead his eyes focused on the two subjects he would be following very closely for the next couple of days. She stood away from him, listening intently to Sidney as if her life depended on it. And he…well he was trying to listen to Sidney, though all the while his eyes flicked to hers in an unconscious hope she would turn her gaze to him. However, it did not happen once.

"…so that tape we found in the Morgans' house was blank," Sidney concluded as if what he had been saying was an amazingly intriguing story.

Devan nodded, pretending to be interested. "Thanks, Sidney. We scoured the place and found other tapes, though. Did you check them out?"

Sidney shrugged. "They're still with the precinct. They won't hand them over…"

Woody lifted his brows as Sidney's look directed itself at him in an insinuating way. "I'll talk to my captain, see what the hold up is."

Sidney nodded and walked off. There was a momentary awkward silence as Devan, Woody and Nigel were left standing alone in one of the corridors of the morgue. As the two subjects were avoiding each other's eyes, they both turned to Nigel, each with a seemingly pleading look. Nigel hid the smirk that was inevitably going to rise while he shrugged complacently.

Devan flicked her eyes suddenly over to Woody, then she looked away from his gaze. "Have you been briefed?"

"Yeah," Woody said while nodding, "this morning. I've given a statement but I didn't have much to say. I didn't get a good look at the guy."

Nigel gave a look of mock confusion when he realised Woody was talking to him, while what he had to say was directed at Devan. He watched as Devan gave a small nod and tried to walk past Woody, but failed miserably when he impulsively stepped in front of her, blocking her way. They tried to walk around each other but ended up effectively barring one another. It didn't matter though, as it was all very amusing to Nigel.

When Devan had vanished from view, Nigel leaned over to Woody. "What was that about?"

Woody frowned at the other man's sly tone. "Nothing."

"Okay," Nigel dismissed as he shrugged it off. "Did you notice anything specific about your attacker? It might help if we find a connection to that and the murder of Ray Marks…"

"We slept together," Woody said quickly, his lips tightly pursed together.

Nigel stared at him with blank eyes. "Well…that helps a lot."

"Last night," Woody continued, oblivious to Nigel's previous question. "I showed up at her place, completely dripping with blood and she cleaned it up and then it just happened. A spontaneous thing, completely unplanned."

Nigel nodded, slowly. He sensed something between them. Just not exactly…that. That was pushing everything, all the boundaries. It was almost impossible to fathom, even for him. There was a silence as Nigel continued his session of nodding. Woody just stared at the ground nervously.

"This is awkward," Woody breathed after a significant amount of minutes.

Nigel frowned. "So, have you…talked to her about it?"

Woody shook his head. "No. The only thing she said to me this morning was 'how do you like your eggs?'."

Nigel gave a sympathetic look. "Sorry. So, any candidates for the attack?"

"Hey, guys."

Woody turned his head at the familiar voice. He smiled falsely, hoping for it to be genuine. "Hey, Jordan. Nigel, it's Jordan."

Jordan frowned and slung a hand over Woody's shoulder. "Who made your coffee this morning?"

Woody gave a nervous chuckle and looked at Nigel with a blank look. "So, anyway, right now I've hit a block on who the attacker may have been. He wasn't exactly big or heavy built, though it was definitely a man. I heard his voice. It sounded kind of low but not gruff, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, like Nigel," Jordan quipped. "I heard about the attack, by the way. How are you feeling?"

Woody gave a half-shrug. "Fine. A little shaken up, but fine. The cut has cotton gauze over it and alcohol was applied to it so it's not bleeding anymore. It wasn't very deep and I don't think I'll need stitches."

"You're lucky," Jordan said while giving him a serious look. "You could have severed an artery."

Woody shifted uncomfortably and whispered spitefully, "Where have I heard that before?"

Jordan either ignored him or didn't hear him. "So what happened with Lenny Keller yesterday?"

Woody cleared his throat. "I believe what he said. I don't think he killed anyone. Too smart for that. He finally admitted to being hired by Nick Morgan but I didn't bother charging him with assault. Too minor."

Jordan smiled and nodded, walking past Woody. "Besides, you've got bigger fish to fry."

"Yeah," Woody replied while smiling. "I'm going to head back to the precinct. I'll see you guys later."

"Oh, do you know where I can find Devan?" Jordan called after him.

Without turning around, Woody answered, "If you look hard enough, you can always find Devan."

* * *

He closed the door behind him and looked over towards his desk. He sucked in a frustrated breath. He cursed her inwardly. She was always there. _Always_. It was like she was suffocating him. An overstatement, but this was definitely a form of harassment. He walked over to her, trying not to think about the intimate details of the night before. But they burned in his mind and he couldn't get rid of the ashes. No matter how desperately he tried.

She smiled at him pretentiously when she saw him striding towards her. "Just thought I'd check in."

He leaned over her. "Get off my desk."

She did so obligingly, sliding gently off the side of his cluttered desk. "Sorry, I forgot you take six sugars instead of five in your coffee. My mistake."

He sat down on his chair, ignoring her sarcastic toneand conveniently avoiding her eyes once again. "Devan, what are you doing here?"

Devan shrugged. "Lunch break."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "It's eleven in the morning."

"I know," she replied easily. She paused and shrugged again. "I secretly have the day off."

Woody looked up at her and frowned. "Then why did you…?"

She smiled down on him from where she was leaning against his desk. "To avoid you. Didn't exactly work out the way I wanted it to, but it was worth a try."

He couldn't help but smile back, despite the…developments that had taken place overnight. "And you're here now because…?"

She tucked a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ears before answering him. "I could lie and say that I was here for the rest of the tapes found in the Morgans' house…or I could say that I wanted to talk. Do you want to go get some coffee or something?"

He looked into her green eyes and smiled at the pleading look in them. He felt a shiver run up his spine. "Sure."

She tilted her head and smiled gratefully. "Great. I need the rest of those video tapes, by the way."

Woody gave her a dull look. "Do you want that coffee or not?"

She returned his look, pouting slightly. "You know I like to keep myself updated, Woody."

Woody stood, plucked up his jacket from the back of his chair and started walking. "You'll see them after I do."

Devan followed him willingly, putting on a false smile. "In a rut much, Woody?"

Turning to look over his shoulder, Woody flashed an equally false smile. "Only with you."

* * *

The sun shone brightly above them, a rare occurrence, particularly around this time of year. A few clouds obscured the streaming rays, but little did the two mind. Too much of one thing always ended badly, anyway. For instance, being out in the sun too long brought on painful burns and eventually equally painful peeling of the skin. Even with clouds though, there still was a high risk of being shamefully burned. The same thing applied to the truth; if the truth shone all of the time and even if it sometimes did have heavy clouds obstructing its view, people would still be suffocated by it. The truth figured this out a long time ago and found ways to hide in the depths of the dark shadows that followed almost the entire human population around. It trained itself until eventually it was basically impossible for someone to find the truth. However, that didn't stop people from trying.

"So, I've been thinking," Devan began in a professional tone.

"Did that hurt?" Woody muttered under his breath, though audible enough for the intuitive doctor beside him to hear.

The two were walking down towards Woody's awaiting car, each with large coffee cups in their hands. Woody was holding his jacket in his other hand, sweating mildly from the heat of the sun above them. His pressed light blue shirt fluttered in the warm breeze that blew past them occasionally. Devan kept her eyes pointedly before her, her mind trying desperately not to recount the previous night's events. It was still very much awkward between them, and something told Devan it wasn't about to become any easier.

"We agreed on an end to the sniping, remember," she reminded him rhetorically. "Anyway, do you think your attack last night had anything to do with the murder of Ray Marks?"

Woody shrugged, taking another sip of his already icy coffee. He swallowed it with a cringe. "Why would it?"

It was Devan's turn to shrug as they rounded a corner. She caught a glimpse of his arm out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe someone's playing games with us. Maybe someone doesn't want us to uncover the truth."

"Devan," Woody began, turning to her for a brief second before shifting away. "We deal with people everyday who want the truth to stay hidden. I want to find the guy who did this," he pointed to his chest with a free finger, "as much as the next person. Whether the attack on me had anything to do with the murder or not doesn't make a difference. It will all come out in the end."

Devan sighed, trying her best to ignore Woody and his righteousness. "I think whoever attacked you and murdered Ray Marks wants justice for Lesley Morgan. Whether it's Nick or not…"

"He has a water-tight alibi," Woody interrupted her accusation of Lesley's brother. "Three in the afternoon at the local supermarket. Caught on security camera."

This made Devan hesitate. "Interesting way to grieve. Retail therapy…with groceries."

Shrugging, Woody dumped the coffee cup in the bin to the side of the path. "To each his own. Why do you think the killer wants justice?"

"Maybe the person out there attacking the detective on the case and the guy who was blamed for Lesley's death knows her personally," she said with alert eyes. "Maybe he…or she went through a traumatic experience with her and now feels like he, or she, has to avenge her death."

Woody blinked, giving Devan a side-look. "You're overreaching."

"Am I?" she asked defensively, looking him in the eye. "What if I'm right…?"

Woody stopped at his car and turned around to face Devan. "There could be a million reasons why this is happening, you're just thinking about it too much."

"There isn't a million reasons, Woody," Devan retorted, raising her voice. "There's only one. And we have to find out what that is before someone else dies or gets hurt."

"We?" Woody began heatedly. "_I _have to find out what that is. There's no we, no us. No you. You cut up the dead people, that's your only job. The bodies you examine aren't supposed to be lives to you; they're supposed to be lives to me. I investigate, you cut."

Devan stared at him with angry eyes, her nerves rising within her. "I hate the way you shrink me all the time."

"Shrink you?" Woody said disbelievingly. "Honey, you wouldn't know the meaning of the word."

Devan stared incredulously. "Well, _Sweetie_, why don't you teach me? I'm sure you have enough time on your hands since you have all of that freedom within your job and all. Not to mention your extra-curricular activities being reasonably shortened from now on."

Woody breathed angrily. "Just so you know, what happened last night will never happen again, and the mere thought of it just sickens me."

Devan contained an amused smile. "Oh really? Well it certainly didn't last night."

"I didn't have a clear state of mind last night," Woody replied steadily. "I was in a state of shock."

"Oh, that's what it was then," Devan crooned gently in a falsely sympathetic tone.

Woody glared down at her. "At least I don't think some crazy, vigilante dude is out to get me."

Devan pretended to be taken aback and put a hand to her chest, opening her mouth slightly. "Well excuse me for being _concerned _not only for my safety but for yours."

There was a hollow whistle as something sliced through the air and pierced the window of Woody's car with a shattering echo of smashing glass. The window had been in between the two bickering subjects, who were sure to have been the targets of a sniper rifle. With a delayed reaction, Woody ducked, taking Devan down with him. The siren of the car alarm was deafening but Woody was able to open his eyes and scan the area for the shooter. No one. He glanced through the trees, behind poles, on top of buildings. Nothing. Just people running, some towards the crouched couple, some right away from them.

Devan, pushing Woody off her, stood shakily and brushed some stray glass spectacles from her. The car alarm stopped suddenly as she stared at Woody with a pointed look. "Still think no one's out to get us?"

* * *

**A/N: **…is there or isn't there? That is the question… 


	7. Unintended

**A/N: **Firstly, I would like to congratulate Jordan and Woody for finally consummating whatever they share with one another. It took them five years but they made it. I'm not exactly a Jordan/Woody fan, but anything other than Charles Mesure is good for me. Go Jordan!

Thanks to those who reviewed (yeah, it's been a while) but please bear with me, it's not my fault I'm slow. Well, yeah it is but…

**Previously on Only For The Truth…  
**Two people were slowly recovering from their night of passion together while attempting to save their relationship with a coffee date. But they failed miserably as the arguments set in about various things, like who worked where and did what and whether or not someone was out to get them. All of this of course was the result of their intimate encounter the previous night. But then, from the shadows of the late afternoon, bullets showered them. Luckily, neither of them were hurt. But someone was definitely out to get them…

Same thing goes, I don't own Crossing Jordan or the characters, and thinking about it now, this story is set _way _in the past. A whole season ago.

**Only For The Truth  
****Chapter 6: Unintended**

* * *

He winced again, scrunching up his face and managing to capture a drop of alcohol under his left eyelid. He let out a painful cry and stammered back, but that didn't exactly make the situation better as he stumbled over an extremely cluttered desk. He reached down a hand to rub the back of his shin before feeling the stab of a heeled shoe clamp down of his foot. Another cry escaped his parched lips and another frustrated sigh slipped out of hers. He shuddered at her glowering stare and straightened, readying himself as she applied more distilled alcohol to the small wound above his eye. The wound he ironically made for himself when he protected her from the shattering of glass above them as a bullet pierced his car window. He once again winced at the stinging.

"This is familiar, isn't it?" Woody managed to croak through the pain.

Devan stared at the wound, her concentration fading slightly. "Don't remind me."

Silence eased its way into the uncomfortable situation, making it difficult for the both of them to form words. Since their encounter on the street walking back from an unsuccessful coffee date, things had turned from bad to worse. One of them thought someone, a killer, was out to get them, while the other thought only he should be investigating because it was progressively growing dangerous for the other. And they still had to find the killer before he struck somewhere else.

The door to Devan's office was violently pulled open and a dishevelled Garret imposed himself on the two. "Everything okay in here?"

"If you call this," Woody pointed to his swollen eye, "okay, then we're just peachy."

Garret let out a quick breath. "Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"For what?" Devan asked almost incredulously. "It's a tiny cut. It will heal in a matter of days."

"Oh, it's a tiny cut…?" Woody began in a forceful whisper but was quickly silenced by Devan's searing look. "Feel's like a poisonous dart is sticking out of my eye."

"Good," Devan quipped while wiping away the last of the blood with a steady finger, making Woody jump slightly.

Garret gave them both serious looks before rubbing his forehead and sighing. "I don't want to see this happen again. I want you to let the FBI handle this from now on."

Woody cleared his throat. "Doctor Macy, with all due respect, this case is mine. I'm not letting a couple of ignorant agents take over and screw things up. If this guy was shooting at me, then it's personal."

Devan glared at him for not including her but Garret broke the momentary silence before she could. "You will only liase with the FBI, you will not do anything on your own. Talk to your Captain, he'll say the same thing."

When Macy left the room and was well out of earshot, Woody cursed under his breath. "Yeah, I bet he will."

Devan grabbed Woody's neck suddenly and pulled him down, plastering a green bandaid down on his wound. She released the grip she had on his neck and handed him a small hand mirror from her desk before winking slyly at him.

Raising an eyebrow, Woody gave a small, amused laugh. "Barney?"

She shrugged. "It was either that or Barbie."

"Guess I'll have to settle on the big, friendly, green dinosaur who loves everyone," Woody whispered quietly.

Devan threw the excess cotton buds in the bin behind her and flashed Woody a false smile. "Guess you will."

Woody watched as she left the room almost hurriedly and without a backwards glance. He couldn't help but think their relationship was damaged now because they had slept together in what had been a rash, spontaneous notion caused from severe stress and throbbing chest pain. And this day wasn't helping much, either, not with the arguing and the sniper shooting. And the Barnie bandaid. That was a new low for Devan, Woody decided. And he was the one being paying the expenses for this. Well, at least he thought so.

He winced once more to clear his mind and wandered out of the small enclosure only to run into a frazzled looking Jordan. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and Woody noted the small stains of sweat on her hairline and above her eyebrows.

Woody frowned his concern. "Jordan, what's wrong?"

Sighing in frustration, she swiped a quick hand across her forehead. "Another body. Victim of a sniper shooting. Ten minutes after you guys were shot at."

"What?" Woody immediately became anxious. "Is he here yet?"

Jordan raised a brow fleetingly. "She. And yes, she just came in. Paramedics tried to revive her but no pulse returned. She's fresh and she's mine."

Woody resisted shivering at Jordan's definitive tone of voice. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Amanda Cornwall," Jordan replied with another overdue sigh. "Twenty one years. Closest living relative is her mother, Joan. Lily's already onto that."

"Amanda Cornwall," Woody whispered the name, brows lined and trying to remember where he'd heard that name. "I know that name. Just don't know where from. Devan knows about this?"

Jordan flinched ever-so-slightly but not so much that Woody noticed it. "Yeah, I just told her."

There was a momentary silence that overwhelmed the two as if it had been summoned by a force of great power. There was so much unexplained and hidden between them that Woody almost felt the need to apologise to her. The idea was so strong that Woody opened his mouth to form the very words that would give Jordan the answer she so desperately wanted, when Nigel tapped his shoulder from behind. Woody flinched, closed his mouth and turned to face the tall Englishman.

Nigel flashed a white grin. "I have a ballistics match for the bullet I extracted from your car window, and Bug has security footage of the shooting."

Woody nodded and turned to Jordan with a near-apologetic gaze. "Keep me posted."

Jordan gave her own nod and disappeared, leaving Woody to sigh helplessly and follow Nigel to the forensic lab where they were met with an expressionless Bug, who brought up video footage on the big screen. Woody watched intensely as he saw footage of his car on a particular angle. He then saw Devan enter the range of the camera. She talked dramatically to a figure beside her, who of course Woody knew to be himself. The pair argued for a number of beats before Woody ducked, taking Devan down with him and covering her from a shower of shattered glass. The video then turned its attention to a masked figure, retracting parts of a sniper gun from a fair distance away. It looked to Woody like he was behind a tree. Then the footage fizzled out and Bug turned in his chair.

"Intense," he breathed with a calmness only he could possess.

Nigel offered a sly grin. "So what were you two talking about?"

Woody glared but managed to keep his composure. "Ballistics, Nigel. Give them to me."

Shrugging, Nigel plucked out a buried sheet of paper from one of the cluttered desks around him. "The bullets match an M21 Sniper Gun, only used by the U.S. Army. They were recently developed, as well."

Woody raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What's an average Joe doing with an Army issued weapon?"

Nigel shook his head. "Long way to go, Wood."

* * *

Filing her finger through the number of torn and tattered pages of the worn diary, Devan searched for the name that would cure her curiosity. There were vivid details of an emotional teenager's life, most importantly the shocking crime that inadvertently began all of this: Lesley Morgan's rape. Devan was sure the answer to solving this mystery was in these diaries but she had no idea where to even begin. So, one mystery at a time. She was looking for a mention of the name Amanda Cornwall, the girl she so intensely felt was connected to Lesley. As were all the murders these days. Her finger stopped trailing the page when she found her target.

"…_thanks to the greatest friend in the world, Amanda Cornwall," the page read. "She is the one inspiration I have to keep going in this life. I know that it must be hard for her as well…"_

Devan smiled at her success. Finally a break through. Albeit, a small one. But one all the same. She stood from her chair to find Jordan but was stopped by a voice.

"Doctor Maguire?" It was Sidney. "This came for you. It was left at the front desk."

Devan frowned and took the compact disk in her fingers and studied it. The case was a pale yellow and the disk read her name. "Thanks, Sidney. Did you see who left it?"

Sidney shook his head and gave a quick shrug. "It just came with the mail."

She waited until Sidney had left the room before turning to her computer and sliding the disk in. She frowned again and waited for the data to load, sighing impatiently.

* * *

Bug yawned in the absence of company. His mother had always remarked that it was rude to yawn in the presence of company. Not that it bothered him now, because he had been left alone to his own devices. And that suited him just fine. In his spare time at the morgue, he loved to study his array of varying bugs and spiders to find some connection to them and humans. Only this time his solitude was interrupted by a slight knock on the glass window surrounding his office space, that of which he shared with Nigel.

Devan rounded the small corner and handed him the disk. "Could you take a look at that, just for a minute. I need to know where it was taken."

Bug frowned but slipped in the disk anyway, taking the young Medical Examiner's word for it. "Why do you think I could help?"

A small smile tugged at the edge of Devan's lips. "Just watch."

The film loaded and Bug was exposed to a lush park, with mounds of green shrubbery and native trees overhanging a gentle pond that trickled along a paved path. It was obvious the film was homemade, although the camera must have been steadied on a tripod because it wasn't moving. A man came into view, seated on a camping chair. He wore a pair of baggy cargo capris with a red plaid shirt. His hair was a brilliant shade of fire-red, almost orange in the golden sun, and it was shaped almost like an afro, frizzy and all. His eyes were a hypnotic pale blue that reflected mischievously in the luscious surroundings. He wasn't built very large, his bare arms were relatively skinny and his pants were held up around his waist by a black, leather belt.

He began talking and his voice was like liquid gold flowing from him. "You were lucky you had your friend to protect you, Doctor Maguire. Or can I call you Devan? I think I'll call you Devan. He's very perceptive. He can hear a bullet whistle through the air on top of your arguing. That's impressive."

Bug turned his head to look at Devan with a raised brow, but she shook her and pointed to the screen. "Ignore what he's saying, think about _where_ he is."

The man on the screen spoke again. "You're probably wondering who I am. Well, my name is Death. And I am everywhere. I'm hunting down victims one by one and unfortunately, you're next on my list. I'd think about the bare necessities for now, such as who you'd like to make amends with and what you'd like to apologise for."

"Devan…" Bug began in a subdued tone but Devan cut him off with a hand squeezing hard on his shoulder.

"I don't usually do this," Death continued, "but I thought I could make an exception. You've been working so hard to uncover the truth, but that's not what I'm about. Lesley died covering it up and it's my job to keep it that way. That's why the others had to die, because they were getting too close to the truth or they were going to expose it. I cannot let that happen."

The video faded to black suddenly and Devan sighed. "So?"

Bug paused, contemplating giving his answer when he knew what she was going to do. Finally he let out a breath and rubbed his forehead. "Black Ranger's Park, a couple of miles East. Hard to miss."

Devan smiled and squeezed Bug's shoulder again. "Thanks, Bug."

She turned to leave but was stopped by Bug's demanding voice. "Don't you have something else to say?"

Sighing, Devan gave him a quick, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Bug watched her receding figure float away like a dead leaf. He sighed and slapped a hand onto his forehead. "Happy birthday, Bug!" Bug articulated in a high-pitched falsetto. "Thanks, Devan."

Sighing again, Bug pulled out a rubber spider from one of his draws. That had been the only birthday gift he had received all day. And it had been from the mailman. Bug shrugged decidedly and went back to his study of the insect anatomy.

* * *

Jordan tugged hard at the gaping bullet wound with a pair of surgical tweezers but she could not grasp the small lead object. It was buried so deep inside the hole that if it had not been for the lack of an exit wound, she would have assumed it had gone all the way through the young woman's body. Eventually though, Jordan felt the unmistakeable grind of metal on metal and she pulled viciously at the bullet, holding it in between her tweezers when it emerged from the depression it had made. Nine millimetre. She was sure it had been shot from the same sniper gun that had attacked Woody and Devan just minutes before focusing its crosshairs on the unfortunate victim laying before her.

Garret entered the room without a sound and looked towards Jordan, who studied the bullet intensely. "Same gun?"

Jordan jumped at the echoing voice and gave a sigh of relief when she saw who it was. "Sorry, I'm a bit on edge. Two of my friends could have died today. But, in answer to your thoughtful question, yes it is the same gun. At least it looks it."

Nodding, Garret stalked forward, glancing at the victim for a brief second. "Do you have a connection yet?"

Jordan raised her eyebrows. "Actually, Devan dropped in a couple of minutes ago and said there was a passage in Lesley's diary about the victim. It seemed as though they were best friends."

Furrowing his brow, Garret winced in frustration. "Okay, that's good. Now we have something to go on."

Jordan nodded with her tongue over her top lip in thought as she distantly dropped the bullet into a glass casing. "Do you want me to relay this to Woody?"

"No," Garret replied abruptly. "This is now a high-profile case. There's an FBI agent coming in later. Tell him everything you can."

Jordan watched Garret retreat from the room before letting out her abated breath. She had already made up her mind to tell Woody everything she knew.

* * *

Devan stopped walking, her feet aching numbingly. She had no idea how long she had been walking just to find this one tree in this huge, green sanctuary but she was sure it was a long time. She felt the blisters emerging on the soles of her feet and she cursed herself for not wearing more comfortable shoes. Actually, as fate would have it, she blamed Woody. She blamed him for everything, particularly because if she hadn't gone to the precinct on her day off to find some closure within their obscure relationship, then none of this would have happened. Or, more specifically, if he hadn't shown up at her apartment last night then it wouldn't be so awkward between them now. She hated that he was under her skin. And she didn't want to admit it, but she hated that he was doing that to spite somebody else.

She was snapped back to reality when she heard a twig break behind her. Whirling around, Devan prepared herself for the worst but all she saw was a curious bird, plucking around for some twigs for a nest. Devan let out an angry breath when she realised what time of the year it was. _Breeding season_.

"Go away," she spat angrily at the small bird. "I'm already annoyed as it is."

The bird flew away with a flutter of its wings but Devan froze when she heard a footstep. She heard another one and it was closer this time. The feet were definitely dragging closer and closer so Devan turned around skilfully and grabbed onto an arm, stepping down hard on the feet beneath her. She heard a familiar yell and pulled the person in closer, looking up to see their face.

"Woody?" she gasped incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Woody winced and shook off Devan's grip. "What am _I _doing here? Following you if you really want an answer but I'm not the one who should be explaining."

"Right," Devan countered in a sarcastic whisper. "Are you aware that stalking is a crime?"

Opening his mouth, Woody thought before answering her. "I…hope that was a rhetorical question and I'm not stalking you. I was worried about you if you must know. Bug told me everything."

Devan exhaled slowly, capturing the day's cool air when she sucked another breath in. "So you know that he was after _me _and not you? That this is personal for me because I'm being pursued?"

Woody sighed reluctantly. "I understand that you feel like you need to find this guy, but you're not a cop. You don't need to hunt down the bad guys and put them away. That's my job."

"Like you ever let me forget that!" Devan shouted angrily, almost spitefully. "You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. It is none of your business."

Woody snaked out a hand to clasp onto her sleeve and pulled her close. "It is when I'm involved."

Devan stared hard at his neck as she could feel his warm, steady breath on her hair. "I'm not even going to ask how you meant that."

Holding onto her hand, Woody pulled away slightly to look into her green eyes that flashed a little bit of every emotion. "I can give you protection if you need it. Just say the word."

Devan's face hardened into one of dignified pride. "I don't need your _protection_, Woody. I need your support. You can't shrink me anymore or tell me how to do my job."

Woody watched as her blonde hair swept across her face in the light breeze. He took a few strands into his fingers and lightly tucked them behind her ear. "I won't. I promise."

Without meaning to, Devan laced her fingers with his and clasped his hand more tightly. Then she realised what she had done and cursed herself mentally for the umpteenth time since last night when they lay together, intertwined but still distanced from each other. It had been passionate and intense, but Devan couldn't help but think it was for all the wrong reasons. She remembered with a knot in her stomach how furiously he had kissed her and with a fiery passion like no other.

Her eyes trailed down his neck to the top of his chest, which was exposed through his partially opened shirt. She thought with a small smile how it had felt against her. She was quickly brought back to reality when warm fingers lightly flitted across her neck. She looked up to meet his deep blue eyes and tried to remain calm but the butterflies within her were too strong to stay grounded. The fire in his eyes from the previous night was still present and he seemed to know what she had been thinking about just by looking at her. His eyes didn't stray from hers but he leant down slowly, his lips closing in on hers.

When she felt the warmth almost drown her, she pulled back slightly but still held his gaze. "We need to talk…about everything."

Woody straightened and released his breath. "Okay, how about tonight? We could have dinner or something and…"

"Tonight's Bug's birthday," Devan replied, cutting him off.

Woody hung his head. "Oh, yeah. The surprise thing. Forgot. Well how about tomorrow night?"

Devan sighed and wondered if she could wait that long but agreed anyway. "You could come over and I could cook some dinner, or we could just order take-out or something. Is seven good?"

"Seven's perfect," Woody replied with a smile. "So, is this a…date?"

"No." Devan was quick to reply seriously, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips impulsively.

The two began walking away slowly, each sliding in occasional flirtations but one constant remained: it still seemed wrong for both of them, despite their growing relationship and eagerness to continue with it. Still, something just didn't feel right…

From the shadows of the gently swaying trees, a figure watched the retreating couple, deeply engrossed in the dynamics of their relationship. Despite the overbearing darkness, a glimmer of sunlight streamed through the branches and leaves, highlighting parts of a frizzy, red afro that glinted bright orange in the light. Pale blue eyes glimmered with a hint of amusement and a disquieting chuckle arose from the depths of the tranquil silence.

"Tomorrow night at seven," the liquid gold voice spoke with pure malice. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

**A/N: **Haha, I have a thing with Bug's birthday. Please review, I'm going to go eat something :)

Peace


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